Hope Has Human Hands (Excerpt)
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In the late 1940s and early 50s, there was a song which, when it came on the radio, would make my dad groan and move as if to turn it off, muttering “That darn song, it’s so sticky!” and my mother and I would cry out, “No, we want to hear it!” It was a terrifically sentimental song with words that could even be said to be sappy, schmaltzy, syrupy:
Soft as the voice of an angel,
breathing a lesson unheard,
Hope with a gentle persuasion whispers her comforting word:
Wait till the darkness is over,
Wait till the tempest is done,
Hope for the sunshine tomorrow,
after the shower is gone.
Whispering Hope, oh how welcome
thy voice,
Making my heart, in its sorrow,
rejoice.
In those days, hope to me meant miracles; it meant a sort of Pollyanna-like optimism: “Everything will be fine in the morning.” It meant that no matter how desperate the financial situation of our family, we would have food on the table; someone from my dad’s little Baptist congregation would deposit a freshly killed Canada goose or venison roast or string of fish on our doorstep.
Hope, in my young mind, was a kind of insurance policy, a belief that God would not desert us if we were faithful. Hope provided for miraculous recoveries, last-minute rescues. It meant that the sun would always rise, that spring followed winter, seeds would grow, birth would produce new life, and the Lone Ranger would arrive on time!
Over the years, as I’ve examined faith in light of my own experience, I have gradually revamped my thoughts about Hope as a religious concept. It seems to me that the Hope innate in the human spirit is more than simply a wish for good outcomes, for peace on earth, or a politically correct holiday greeting. Hope is far more than clichés or a wish for miracles. It is not trivial or sentimental.
The definition I’ve come up with after many years of observing my own need for hope and the moments which seem to create hope for me and others is this: Hope is my awareness, my deep understanding, that I am connected to the inextinguishable stream of life, that I am part of the whole.
Let me repeat that definition and ask you to compare your own experiences to it. For me, hope is the clear sense that I am a part of the inextinguishable, inexhaustible stream of life. It is a tangible sense of my place in the universe. It is the fiber of the interdependent web of all existence, the connection I have to all else in life.
When I have lost hope, I have lost my sense that I belong to the universe, to the web, to life itself. But hope is strengthened in me with every reminder I receive of that connection. It may start when I first see the tomato seedling pop up in the seed tray on my windowsill. It may be triggered by the purring of the fuzzy kitten on my lap as I read. Even a stranger’s greeting on the sidewalk or beach may evoke a warmth that reminds me that I do belong here, I am a part of life.
Hope is found in relationship, whether with my pets, friends and family, strangers, all of nature or with God, if you are comfortable with that word.
If religion is defined as the expression of human relationship with self, others and the universe, then hope is a manifestation of that relationship and a valuable piece of our active faith. Unitarian Universalists mostly do not hope for a heavenly home; we hope for an earthly home that is heavenly and we know that it is our job to build that home.
A friend once talked with me about her second biopsy for breast cancer. “I was scared to death,” she said. “I’d already had one surgery and was terrified that this was the beginning of the end. I felt loose from my moorings, adrift, disconnected, hopeless. And I knew I couldn’t bear it without help. The nurse started to move away from me after the test, and I said to her, ‘I need you to hold on to me.’ She took my hand and I felt myself re-connect with life. She gave me more hope than a negative biopsy.” When we offer hope to ourselves and to one another, with each smile, each touch, each act of kindness and understanding, we knit up the rips and tears in the interdependent web of existence and bring each other closer to spiritual wholeness.
- Hope Has Human Hands (Excerpt) - December 1, 2015
